It's In The Water
by Resmiranda
Summary: Every gift is a sleeping curse. post-finale, Korrlok
1. bite the hand that feeds

**Title: **It's In The Water  
**Author: **Resmiranda  
**Rating: **M for later.  
**Summary: **Every gift is a sleeping curse. Post-finale.  
**Pairing: **Korrlok, some Makorra in the beginning  
**Author's notes: **I'm a slow burner. But trust me, there is hot sex somewhere in the future. And I ship water tribe/water tribe. ALL OF THEM. ALL OF THE WATER TRIBE. This is dedicated to aiffe, who reminded me why I love writing all fiction, original and fan. I love her and you should love her too. Anyway. Here. Have some angst.

"_i set a course for a new shore  
__it looked the same as the one before  
__and i forgot what i'd been sailing for  
__and why i thought this time would be different"_

**-Steven Page, **"A New Shore"

**i. bite the hand that feeds**

When Tarrlok wakes up, the first thing he sees is Korra.

She is sitting by his bed, her arms up, her hands casually cradling the back of her head while she stares at the ceiling. Her legs are crossed as a man would cross them, one foot propped on her knee, kicking arrhythmically as she hums without tune. If his... well, if his _everything _didn't hurt, he would sit up and demand to know what she is doing in his room.

But he's not in his room, he realizes. The sheets are worn and soft instead of silky, and the air smells sharp and clinical. The light from the windows slants from the wrong direction, is diffuse and pale, and the noise from the street outside is far too boisterous for his home. _The hospital, _he realizes, and he remembers.

He should be dead. Should be dead, but isn't. Why didn't it work? Does that mean that Noatak...

He swallows, and its like a fist clenching in his dry throat.

Korra glances at him at the sound, and it takes a moment for her to realize he is awake.

"Tarrlok!" she says, as if she has just remembered his name. It makes him want to laugh, but in a way that feels like screaming.

He licks his dry lips. "Avatar," he rasps, "what are you doing here."

The look of surprise on her face dissolves into a scowl. "Saving your ungrateful butt," she snaps at him.

_How am I ungrateful_? he wants to ask. He's only just woken up. His brain is fuzzy and he can't seem to think straight, and speaking to her has already drained him. He sags further into the pillows as the door opens with a squeal of ungreased hinges.

A nurse strides inside, carrying a bowl of water, and he realizes that he still cannot sense water, much less the blood of other people. It feels as though his skin has gone numb. His bending is still gone, and something sparks in his chest, an emotion too strange for him to dwell upon.

Noticing he is awake, the nurse stops dead. A bit of water splashes over the side of the bowl, but Korra reaches her hands out-a movement so graceful and familiar it almost brings tears to his eyes-and catches it in mid-air. Gently she guides it back to the bowl and takes it from the nurse. "I've got this," she says.

"Y...yes, Avatar Korra," the nurse says, bows a fraction, and hurries out, no doubt to report this change in his condition.

Tarrlok closes his eyes, just for a moment. He wants to ask how long he's been asleep, how he came to be here, what happened, what happened, _what happened-_

But she is lifting something from his skin. Gauze. Air hits him, and he wants to recoil, but he can't recoil from his own body. Then cool water caresses his face, sinking into his skin, and the pain that dwelled there, that he hadn't even been able to discern in the cloud of agony all around him, begins to dissipate.

The Avatar is healing him.

He has little strength, but he is able to turn his head. The pain comes back, fire and razors scraping over him, and he grits his teeth.

"What are you doing? Hold still!"

"Go away, Avatar," he tells her.

She huffs. "No, I won't. You're a mess. Let me help you."

He laughs, and it grinds inside his chest. He _hurts. _"Why would you help _me?" _he demands. Exhaustion is spreading over him, a creeping sickness.

"Well, for one thing, I need to know where Amon is. Noatak. Whatever." Again he feels the touch of healing water, mercy on his screaming body, and this time he doesn't have the strength to move away. "I thought you might know."

Tarrlok thought he knew. He thought he knew where they were both going: down to the bottom of Yue Bay in pieces, their tainted blood returning to the sea where it could do no harm. The ocean spirit would welcome its own back to the fold, surely.

But it hadn't happened like that. Obviously. And he has no idea why. He remembers nothing. His own eyes were closed as he pressed the glove to the gas tank, igniting the boat.

"I don't know," he rasps. "Leave me."

She ignores him, because that is who she is. Wrappings lift and water travels over his body, and he realizes that he is nude except for the bandages snugged around him, but he is too preoccupied with trying not to shriek to be humiliated. She speaks no more, and neither does he, and the air in the room is thick and heavy.

When she is finally done, she covers him with a sheet and calls the nurse.

He is already falling asleep as practiced hands wrap his injuries again, and he barely hears her pause in the doorway.

"I'll be back later, Tarrlok," she says, her voice coming as though from very far away. "Get some sleep."

He does, but not to please her.

..o..

Korra walks into the Air Temple courtyard, so lost in her own thoughts that she doesn't even see Mako approach. She starts at his hand on her arm, then relaxes with a smile.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," he replies. "This is new. Haven't seen you here in a while." His smile is teasing as he wraps his arm around her.

She smiles back, the familiar giddy feeling of being _with _him making her heart flutter in her chest. She places her arm around his waist and shrugs. "Yeah, well. Avatar duty calls."

"Don't let it call you too often." He gives her a squeeze. "You look worn out."

"Tarrlok woke up," she tells him.

He stops dead in his tracks and she pauses in surprise. "What?"

"Wow," he says. "I didn't think he would. He was so... well. Let's just say I've seen some pretty bad burns in my life. I didn't think he'd survive."

She grins at him. "You forget you're talking to the Avatar, trained by Master Katara." She puffs out her chest and pounds a fist against her heart. "I'm the best there is!"

He laughs, but it sounds forced, and she remembers his parents and wants to kick herself. She may be the Avatar, but she has a lot to learn about people. If only she could social-bend. That would make things easier.

She reaches out and grabs his hand. "Come on," she says. "I'm starved. Want to raid the kitchen?"

"I'm not Bolin," he tells her. "I don't need to eat every hour, on the hour."

"Well, _I _do," she replies.

"You're going to make me lose my girlish figure if we keep eating like this."

"Not if you race me!" And she takes off, laughing. He chases her into the temple.

..o..

"So Tarrlok's awake," Mako says, some time later, after eating, after finding their favorite tree to cuddle under, after quick, furtive kisses that leave her heart fluttering and her face flushed. She's not ready to do anything more, but her body urges her to go further and further. Only the watchful eyes of the air acolytes around every corner keep her from going forward. She's not into that, or at least she doesn't think she is.

They are wrapped in a blanket against the cold, and she snuggles closer to him. "Yeah," she said. She didn't really want to think about it. "He was kind of out of it. He didn't want me to heal him."

"Do you think he'll remember what happened?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I need to know where Amon is... His power with the Equalists is gone, but he still did terrible things." She shudders. "Even though..." She trails off, thinking of the story Tarrlok had told her, then shakes herself. Whatever his past, whatever _their _past, Amon-Noatak-and Tarrlok had committed the crime of bloodbending, and they would face justice, one way or the other. She'd restored bending to everyone who had lost it-except Tarrlok, that is. She would have to see if he deserved it or not. Perhaps she could restrict him to only waterbending, weaken his power so he could never bloodbend again. Despite what he had done to her, to so many people, he had still lost part of his _self. _He wasn't like Yakone or Noatak, though. If she ever found Noatak, she would see he got what he deserved.

"Yeah," Mako says, breaking into her thoughts. "I'm glad to have you back, though."

Surprised, she looks up at him. "What do you mean?"

He smiles. "You spent so much time healing him and hoping he'd wake up. Now that it's happened, you don't have to go back there until he's able to talk."

She frowns at him. "Yes, I do. He still needs to be healed."

"That's what the doctors are for."

Korra looks away. "Yeah, but..." Her mouth twists as she tries to explain the responsibility she feels. "I know him, you know? He wasn't a great guy, he did terrible things, but I know why he did them... If things had been different, we could have made great allies. Just because we weren't... I don't know. I guess it doesn't mean I should just abandon him. I feel obligated to help because I can. Does that make sense?"

Mako is quiet. "That sounds like some pretty good Avatar talk," he says finally.

She gives him a shy glance. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He squeezes her and kisses her forehead, and she relaxes against him.

Silently, it begins to snow.

..o..

He's been drifting in and out of consciousness, struggling to find the will or the courage to move, but Tarrlok finds himself more and more exhausted with each thought, and he falls asleep when he blinks. Sometimes there is a nurse by his bedside. Sometimes there is no one.

Then there is Korra. Again.

"Go away," he tells her.

She crosses her arms. "Look," she says, "I just need your help."

The irony is enormous to him. _Where were you when I needed help? _he wonders. _I had to trick you into helping me. Where were you when I needed help, all those years ago? Where were you, Avatar? It was your fault. It was all your fault._

But those aren't fair questions, and the accusations are only half-true, and he knows it, so he says nothing. She wasn't even Korra, then. Back then, she was Aang. But he never met Avatar Aang. All he can think of when he thinks of the Avatar is her now.

"I told you, I can't remember anything," he says.

"I can help you remember," she tells him, and he notices she is holding a skin of water. "Master Katara taught me how to heal the mind."

This time he _has _to laugh, and it turns into a coughing fit. His eyes stream and her hands are on his shoulders, pushing him back against the covers of the bed. They are cool against his feverish skin.

"What's so funny?" she asks, and because she has to ask he knows he can't explain it.

"How badly am I injured?" he says instead.

Her mouth twists. "Looks like you got into a fight with a firebender," she says. "Is that what happened? Did some firebender find you and... and your brother?"

He manages to shake his head. "Mirror."

From the look on her face, he knows it's bad, but hell, he's not in pieces, so it can't be _that _bad, can it? Her mouth twists as she moves to the bedside table and opens the drawer. She pulls out a small hand mirror. For a moment she hesitates, then holds it out so he can see.

It is that bad. Bandages cover half his face, and from what he can see his hair has been hacked off to just above the shoulder. It must have been burned in the explosion. Just like the rest of him. Slowly he reaches up and moves a bit of the gauze. The skin beneath it is dark red and shiny and wrinkled. He lets the gauze fall back.

"I can't... I can't prevent the scarring," she says, "but you're healing quickly." For a moment she seems to hesitate. Then she swallows and clears her throat. "I'm sorry about your hair."

He can't help but give her a sardonic look. "Just my hair?"

She rolls her eyes. "And the rest of you," she says. "But your hair... I'm sorry."

"Why that?"

She shrugs. "You kept it long. Most people in Republic city cut their hair, but you kept the traditional hair... It was nice. Reminded me of home."

He stares at her and her skin darkens in a blush. "Shut up!" she snaps at him, even though he hasn't said anything. "Are you going to let me help you or what?"

"I'd rather you go away."

Her brows draw down. "I'm not going anywhere until you let me help!"

"Then I have no choice, do I, Avatar?"

She opens her mouth, then shuts it again.

"Fine," she tells him. "You're right. Hold still." And she draws water onto her fingers and reaches for his head.

The moment she touches his temples, his brain is bathed in coolness, a soothing feeling, numbing the tangled thoughts that have begun to strangle each other, like a nest of vipers.

His life flashes behind his eyes, skipping from one memory to another without rhyme or reason: _his fight with Korra in his office, Noatak when he was a young man, the councilroom, his father's corpse, Tenzin shouting at him, his mother's crying face, the first time he let the water flow in him, through him, the ship that bore him over the sea, the first glimpse of Republic City, the world unfolding before him like a flower, Korra dancing before him like a puppet-_

_-his brother's hand on his neck, the sharp pain behind his eyes as Noatak destroyed him, the glove on his hand, the sudden fire and fury-_

At the edge of his hearing, Korra gasps and recoils, but the healing lingers for a moment more...

_-water rising up to claim him, to cradle him-_

A lump rises in his throat.

"Are... are you okay?" Korra asks. "I felt something..."

"I don't know if he's dead," Tarrlock tells her. "But I don't think so."

He hears her intake of breath as he turns his face away from her to stare out the window. The sun is setting, sending anemic pink light over the walls.

"So he's... still out there?" There is a tiny quiver in her voice.

He closes his eyes and pretends to sleep.

"Tarrlok?" she calls. "Tarrlok?"

He is too tired, and his ruse becomes truth as she calls his name.


	2. the tremor becomes a quake

**Title: **It's In The Water  
**Author: **Resmiranda  
**Rating: **M for later.  
**Summary: **Every gift is a sleeping curse. Post-finale.  
**Pairing: **Korrlok, some Makorra in the beginning  
**Author's notes: **I think I have a plot. Forgive me, but I'm just going to vomit this out and post it as I go. I'd like to just...relax with it, if that's okay? I just want to give something to the Korrlok wing of the fandom because they have brought me much joy. And agonizing rarely seems to make things better in any case. Enjoy the character study and eventual sexual tension. Also just sort of think of this as one long fic posted in installments instead of chapters because that's how I roll.

"_if anybody comes to see me  
__tell 'em they just missed me by a minute  
__if anybody comes in to our room while we're asleep  
__i hope they incinerate everybody in it"  
_**-The Mountain Goats, **"Palmcorder Yanja"

**ii. the tremor becomes a quake**

Her first instinct-her _first_-is to reach out and shake Tarrlok. The fact that he has fallen asleep on her when she desperately needs to know what he knows is intolerable. The idea of Noatak still out there, still able to take bending away, is terrifying. He was hard enough to take down the first time; he would be more subtle next time. Wouldn't he? Would he continue his campaign, or would he move on to something else?

She doesn't even want to think about what a bloodbender like Noatak could do on the loose. Lifting her hands, she readies her water again, hoping to heal him enough to wake him up, but then she hesitates.

He looks fragile in the bed. Too fragile for her to disturb. His weight has plummeted, and she knows all too well that the bandages conceal a damage so extensive she thought he would die. He needs his rest.

Korra sighs. After he kidnapped her and bent her like a doll, she never thought she would care if he lived or died. Perhaps if he were still dangerous she would feel differently.

Anyway, she should know by now that her first instinct is usually a bad one. She leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Down the hall, a janitor is mopping the floor, but no one else is around at this time of evening. The shifts are probably changing over to the night watch. She moves to the narrow stairway that leads down to the lobby where there's a phone she can use. She rings Tenzin.

"Hello?" Ikki answers.

"Hey, Ikki, can I speak to Tenzin?"

"Sure, Korra! Just a minute!" A loud clatter resounds in her ear and she winces. At the other end of the line, she hears Ikki racing off to find her father.

The minutes stretch out until at last the phone clatters again. "Hello?"

Korra sighs. "Jinora?"

"Oh, hey Korra. What are you doing on the phone?"

She grits her teeth. "Ikki was _supposed _to get Tenzin."

"Oh, you can't count on her for anything," Jinora informs her, as if Korra didn't already know this. "I'll go get dad."

The phone clatters again and Korra sags against the wall. She listens to the noise in the background, then, when she realizes that she will be waiting for quite a while yet, she tunes it out. Her eyes wander of their own accord over the wall in front of her. The wood is scored with graffiti, some vulgar, some mundane. Idly she scratches at a number someone hastily scrawled down, picking at it with her thumbnail. The line is quiet, and, she notices, so is the hospital. She glances at the front desk, but there is no one there. Outside, a car beeps, but inside it is silent.

Her hair stands on end. Her instincts are bad, but they aren't _that _bad.

A thump comes from the floor above her. Korra drops the phone and charges up the stairs.

..o..

The door opens, startling him from his doze, but he keeps his eyes shut. He doesn't want to see anyone.

Footsteps shuffle over the floor, and he hears the squeak of a wheel. His head is so foggy that he merely files this information away, unable to make sense of it. Something heavy and wet flops on the floor.

Not Korra, then, and not a nurse bringing food. Just as well; he isn't hungry anyway. He drifts in the in-between place, with waking on one side and sleep on the other. The sounds in the room are too loud, and his head hurts.

Someone is breathing by his bedside.

Years of well-honed instinct stir, but he remains still, keeps his breathing deep. Up until his visitor slaps him, that is, right across his burned cheek.

Agony explodes across his face and he can't even make a sound. He is overcome. His eyes fly open.

A face he has never seen before floats above him. He is dressed plainly, the handle of a mop in one hand. His eyes are cold. His mouth is set.

Tarrlok knows an enemy when he sees one. His muscles tense to fight or flee, but even those small movements send black spots swirling across his vision. His body is too damaged.

_Ah, well, _he thinks. _Might as well finish the job._

"The Equalists survive," the man says quietly, "and we remember what you did."

But what _did _he do? Only tried to defend the city. Only sought to bring down a madman. His own brother. The dark skills they shared-it was too much. It was like lava poured into a metal goblet, melting them, overrunning them, until they were only twisted versions of their former selves, consumed by their own power.

He says nothing, only watches as the man reaches inside his sleeve and pulls out a knife. It gleams dully in the light of the setting sun streaming in through the window.

And then he hesitates, a moment of doubt flashing over his face.

It's the only opening Tarrlok needs. His fist darts out, aiming for the man's wrist.

But his hand is missing.

_Of course, _he thinks in the moment. _Of course it's missing. I destroyed the boat with it. Of course, of course-_

The punch falls short, and quick as lightning the blade flashes, slicing him across the ribs. He can see the man didn't want to, was only acting on instinct, because killing a burned cripple in a hospital bed-who could live with that? Horrified eyes meet his own before years of combat training kick in for him, and he heaves himself away, rolling over the side of the bed.

He lands on the floor with a thump so jarring he blacks out for a moment, and when he comes to, the first thing he sees is Korra.

"Tarrlok!" she is saying. With one hand her fingers are fumbling with the skin of water at her waist, and with the other she is pressing against his new wound, trying to keep the blood from flowing, but it covers the wood floor, fills the room with its sharp smell. "What happened?"

He doesn't answer. He is reeling from the pain, teeth gritted, breath shallow and ragged.

She curses, can't seem to uncap the water. "Stop bleeding!" she almost yells, and then the cork pops and she is pressing cool, healing water against his side. The pain eases. He breathes out.

"What happened?" she asks again.

"An Equalist," he tells her.

His vision is blurry, but he sees her bite her lip. "I should have known you'd be in danger here," she says. "We should have brought you to Air Temple Island first. I didn't think."

She never does and he almost says that, but at the last second he holds his tongue and concentrates on blocking out the physical sensations that surround him. His side hurts, but not as much.

"Damn it," Korra says. "I need more water." She looks around frantically and shouts, "Help! Someone, help!"

He stares at her, disbelieving. "Are you sure you're not going to call more Equalists down on us?"

She scowls. "I have to go get more water and tell Tenzin what happened. Can you, I don't know, not bleed everywhere for a second?"

"If I were still a bloodbender that wouldn't be a problem," he tells her. He almost giggles at his own sick joke, but the pain strangles his laughter before it is born.

She doesn't find it quite as funny as he does. "Yeah, I bet you'd like that," she snaps at him.

He closes his eyes. "No," he says.

He feels rather than sees her discomfiture. "Fine. Whatever. I need more water. You stay here, try to live."

He wants to tell her that even when he's not trying he still manages to live, but she's already on her feet, and he hears her boots pound against the floor as she races in search of more water. He opens his eyes again and stares at the shadows on the ceiling, wondering if he'll bleed out before she returns. Given the way things have been going, he doubts he will be so lucky.

..o..

"Mako, be _careful," _Korra says.

Mako rolls his eyes, but she sees him readjust his grip on the stretcher as together he and Bolin ease Tarrlok's motionless body through the door. He's not asleep, but he's not quite awake, either. He hasn't quite recovered from the blood loss, and the irony is a little too much for her. His blood is still under her fingernails. She washed her hands the old fashioned way instead of trying to bend the blood off of her skin. It was too much... well. Too much.

"Ready?" Bolin asks as they set the stretcher down next to the bed.

Korra moves to Tarrlok's side and nods. Gripping the sheet, all three of them manage to lift him onto the mattress. It is unsettling to her, how light he feels. He always gave her the impression of solidity.

_This is what happens, _she thinks, _when your bending is taken._

He grunts a little as they set him down, and Korra frets. He's already weak from the burns; the wound he has sustained could send him over the edge. They need to get more food and water into him, and she needs to step up her healing game. The amount of healing she's done already has left her very tired, and briefly she considers trying to call up the Avatar State to give her the extra boost she needs, but she's not entirely comfortable with it yet. It's a rush of power, but she knows there are a thousand lifetimes looking over her shoulder, even though she doesn't see them and cannot hear them. It gives her the creeps, just a little, though she's sure she'll get over it eventually.

She looks at him and sighs. His only acknowledgment is to crack an eye-the damaged one-and peer at her through the slit of scar tissue.

She should probably let him rest, but knowing he might have information about Amon is agonizing. She turns to Mako. "Could you get me a bowl of water?"

Mako's mouth twists, but he says nothing, only nods and exits the room.

"What about me?" Bolin says. "Can I get you anything?"

Korra smiles. "Yeah. Go to the nearest water tribe diner and get a bowl of noodles and seal-broth. Make that two bowls. Ask Tenzin for some money, I guess. Tell him it's for Tarrlok."

"No problem." Bolin salutes and saunters out of the room after his brother.

She hears a dry rasping noise from the bed, and she turns to see Tarrlok with the faintest of smiles on his face.

"Fine dining, for me?" he says. His voice is gravely, deeper from disuse. It sounds almost like his brother's, and the memory makes her shudder.

She shrugs to cover up her discomfort. "Everything here is vegetarian. You need real Water Tribe food if you're going to recover."

The faint smile deepens. "And who says I will be doing that?"

Korra scowls. "Me," she tells him. "I say you will be doing that. So get used to it. And I have questions for you."

"I have the same," he replies, and closes his eyes.

"Don't you _dare _fall asleep on me again," she snaps at him, just as Mako enters with a bowl full of water.

"Are you guys okay?" he asks.

Belatedly, she realizes how bad it looks that she is yelling at a burned assault victim. "I'm just tired," she says. "I'm sorry, Tarrlok."

He doesn't even acknowledge her, but Mako places the bowl on the bedside table before putting his arm around her and moving her away from the bed.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" he says, his voice low. "You're exhausted. I don't like to see you pushing yourself too hard."

His concern touches her. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Now let me concentrate, okay?"

He stares at her for a few more moments, long enough to make her uncomfortable, then nods. "All right," he says. He plants a kiss on her forehead and walks out of the room, sliding the door shut behind him, though he doesn't take care to do so gently, making the man on the bed jerk at the sound.

"Sorry," she tells him. "He's still not really okay with the whole bloodbending and kidnapping thing."

Tarrlok's face barely moves. "And you are?"

She takes in his broken body, burned and mutilated, and doesn't know what to say.

"Let's get to this," she says. "I'm going to heal you, and you are going to answer my questions."

"I have questions, too."

"Fine. We'll just... have a little chat." She kneels next to the low bed and begins to remove the bandages. She can hear him breathing, the air rasping in his throat, and the room is very quiet. It is different, tending to him here in her home. More... intimate. The thought slides down her spine and settles in the base of her stomach as a lump of unease, and she fumbles as she peels the bandages from his side. One finger pokes him in his newly scabbed wound and he whines.

"Sorry," she mutters. Reaching out, she bends the water from the bowl to her hands and holds them against the crimson scab. She'd been able to knit the skin back together long enough to hold while they transferred him here, but now she needed to work on getting the skin completely healed so the wound won't open again. Taking a deep breath, she lets her chi flow through her hands and into the water.

The healing glow lights up the room, amplifying the light from the single electrical lamp on the bedside. She has never quite understood healing, but Master Katara told her that it was her body's own healing flowing outwards, speeding and assisting her patient's natural healing process. No wonder she's so tired. Tarrlok seems to sleep more than a day-old canarycat. Which reminds her that she should probably get to talking if she's going to get anything out of him before he passes out again.

Tarrlok beats her to it. "Why did you not mention my hand?" he says. His voice is quiet, but his tone is only curious rather than devastated.

"I don't know," she says. "I couldn't really think of a good way to bring it up."

"And yet you brought up my hair."

She doesn't know what to say to that, so she changes the subject. "Can you tell me what happened?" She doesn't look at his face, only the dark skin beneath her fingers, slowly knitting together under her care.

"Noatak freed me," he says finally. "He had a boat, an escape vehicle. We boarded it and set out to sea. He..." Tarrlok trails off, seems to think better of speaking. "I blew up the boat," he says at last.

Korra is so shocked the coalesced water loses its shape, drops from her hands to the bed, where it immediately soaks into the sheets and mattress. She can't help but look at him. "With yourself on it?" she demands.

"Of course."

"But... why?"

He is quiet for a moment. "It doesn't matter," he tells her at last. "The important part is that I believe Noatak escaped. I shouldn't have survived. But, of course, I have no bending. He may have bent the water around us so that we did not bear the brunt of the explosion."

Biting her lip, Korra bends the water from the bed and lets it coat her hands again. "I see," she says.

The atmosphere is awkward, as though his words have fallen into the space incorrectly. His confession has too many sharp edges. It doesn't fit comfortably between them.

"So Amon is still out there," she says at last.

"Most likely."

She shakes her head. "How will we find him?" she wonders out loud. "Do you have any idea where he would go?"

She hears the slightest grind of his singed hair against the pillow as he shakes his head. "No. I did not even know he was alive until a few days ago. He is a stranger to me."

"I bet he's going to lay low for a while. Maybe change his face, like Yakone did." She grits her teeth. "We'd never find him that way."

"No. He is likely beyond our reach now, if he ever surfaces again."

She gives him a sharp look. "Our reach?"

He doesn't answer that. "Why must you find him?" he asks. "He is no longer a threat to Republic City."

"Because he's still dangerous. He has to pay for his crimes."

"I see." She hears the words he doesn't say: _As do I. _

The balance of power between them is so far removed from where it started that she finds herself reeling to keep her footing. Casting about, Korra attempts to regain control of the conversation. A memory tickles at her. "Hey. You recognized his bending when he used it on you!" she points out. "Could you recognize it again?"

He is quiet for a while. "No," he says at last. Her shoulders sag, until he adds: "Not as I am now."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

A ghost of a smile flits across his face. "All bending feels the same to a nonbender, Avatar Korra."

Her eyes widen and she withdraws her hands. "Really?" she asks.

"Really," he replies. "I should know. I live as one now."

For a moment, Korra almost smiles, almost laughs. If she restores his bending, he could help her find Amon-but then again, he is Tarrlok, and she doesn't trust him farther than she could throw him. Which, given his current condition, was probably a fair ways away but _still, _she doesn't trust him at all. Perhaps this is just a ruse to get her to restore his bending-but he doesn't know she can do that, does he? There's a lot one misses out on by being in a coma. "Well," she says, because she's not sure what else to say. Gently, she moves the water back to the bowl just as Bolin enters with the soup she ordered. Korra steals one and sets the other by the bedside.

"I'll find someone to give this to you," she tells him. He doesn't respond, which makes her worry. The old Tarrlok would react with wounded pride. This Tarrlok-he is different.

_I blew up the boat. _

Brow furrowed, she pops open her soup, grabs her chopsticks, and starts shoveling them into her mouth as she walks. She needs to find Tenzin.


End file.
